


Through the night

by Cycian



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cycian/pseuds/Cycian
Summary: Through dark nights, Sombra and Hana find the light, through coffee.





	

It was just another night for D.Va, just another night of being ceaselessly harassed by ghosts, just another night of haunting the Watchpoint’s corridors. It was 4 AM, that time when you are too tired to try and put on a mask, that time when the sun seems to have been a lie. Hana sat in the mess hall, eating a bowl of cereal, her eyes lost on the gigantic window. Gibraltar was a wonderful place during the day, but it could be utterly terrifying at night, especially when she was struggling so hard to keep it together.  
Waves crushing against rock, slowly destroying it, bit by bit, day after day, month after month. It was so peaceful at day, it was so scary at night. She wasn’t a child anymore, she had lost her innocence, she had taken lives. Hana Song once wondered if she’d be a ‘good’ hero ‘ or an ‘evil’ hero. In the end, she realised that she wasn’t necessarily good or evil, she was alive, it was enough. It should have been enough.  
She didn’t quite know why, but just waking up, exhausted from a sleep that didn’t help much with her constant feeling of being tired, eating without tasting, laughing without meaning it, smiling without wanting to, didn’t really felt like enough. It didn’t even feel like living.  
Almost every night, when she wasn’t out risking her life for the good fight, she’d look out this huge window, wishing that her enemies’ bullets would’ve found their mark. During the day, she’d look at her friends, whom where smiling, joking as much as she was, and during the night, she’d sometimes hear the sound of muffled crying, of fists hitting the wall. Maybe this was the price of being a hero, of saving people. You save people, because you can’t be saved yourself.  
During those quit moments of deep reflexion, she sometimes was joined by Zenyatta, he seemed to feel when people most needed him. He’d sit, not far from her, looking straight at the window, and she’d talk. Sometimes, it was just song lyrics that struck her. Sometimes, it was bribes of her past. He listened. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Hana never quite really opened up to anyone in Overwatch, until this night.  
It was this night, where she had ran out of booze to drink herself into a stupor, sitting in this exact same spot, with bags under her eyes. It was this night where Sombra found her. It felt like the hacker had always known about the Korean girl’s night reflexions, and it pretty much was the case. Sombra had been watching her, intensely, during fights, during days off. She decided that this was a night too much. She sat down, right across D.Va, holding two mugs of strong coffee.  
Hana looked up to Sombra, she was surprised, she had never been joined by anyone else but Zenyatta during those nights. She didn’t expect Sombra, of all people, to join her.  
“Are you going to take this coffee, or to daydream-well, more like nightdream, until we both die of old age?” Said the older woman. Hana thanked her, taking the coffee, bringing the mug to her lips, her eyes never leaving the hacker’s. She had so many questions, but all she did was drink the coffee.  
“You’re more talkative during the day,”  
“Do you mind?”D.Va’s words usually had more punch, but Hana was tired, so tired she couldn’t sleep.  
“Would I be here if I did?” Sombra took a long sip of coffee. She didn’t feel like blinking, she liked getting lost in the Korean’s eyes, but they were usually livelier. They felt as dark as the night surrounding them.  
“Why are you here?” Finally asked Hana, after a long moment of contemplative silence. It wasn’t awkward, it just felt right. It felt like the kind of silence who said everything.  
Sombra leaned back in her seat, never once breaking eye contact, and smiled smugly.  
“To help,”  
“To help /who/?”  
“It’s up to you.” She grinned, it was kind of her signature grin, the one who’d make you cry out in frustration, or melt into a puddle of adoration.  
Hana groaned and sighed, but instead of staring at the cold, brutal waves of the water smashing against the rock, she stared at Sombra’s eyes.  
This soon became a ritual. Every night, for a month, they’d come during the night, whomever was arriving in last position made the coffee. D.Va preferred Sombra’s coffee. Sombra secretly preferred D.Va’s coffee, but she would rather die a painful death than admit it.  
They’d talk. Sometimes, it was just small talk and witty banters. It took a few nights for Sombra to bring back Hana’s cunning spirit back, during those late night dates. The hacker was afraid of where she was heading, but caution be damned, the ride was pleasant, and she knew it was only the beginning. Sombra would trade sleep to spend more time with the streamer.  
From time to time, one of them would bring a book, a poem, a picture, something they liked, and they’d talk about it. More often than not, the other would go back to their room with it, and would spend time figuring out why this meant something to the other. It was exchanging crumbs and crumbs of themselves, little by little, they started to open up.  
They talked about their pasts. During those conversations, when one of them had to look away, either lost in old memories, or to hide the tears making their eyes shine, the other would take their hand, it felt comforting.  
The others didn’t really know that the equally snarky professional gamer and hacker shared a close bond, a bridge made of coffee, quiet giggles, memories, over waves crushing against rock, under the moonlight. This was an unspoken secret, one that needn’t be shared.  
One night, D.Va told Sombra she had to go on a two day routine mission. The hacker of course already knew this, she wasn’t expecting things to go the way they did.  
On the first night, she went and sat, she didn’t stay as long as she usually did, but this time, she sat at Hana’s usual seat, and gazed where the young Korean woman once gazed.  
On the second night, she sat at her usual seat, mentally listing what she wanted to tell Hana, which movies she wanted the Korean to watch, which question she wanted to ask, which joke she wanted to make. She missed Hana, there was no point in denying it. But she wasn’t about to admit it.  
She didn’t think there’d be a third night without Hana Song. She didn’t think she’d wait until the mess hall was filling up with agents. She didn’t think she’d spend so much time trying to figure out where the hell was Hana. She didn’t think she’d learn that the mission had gone wrong, and that the Korean was held in the med bay, in critical condition.  
She didn’t think there’d be a fourth night. Nor a fifth, nor a sixth.  
On the seventh night of this insufferable wait, Zenyatta came, as she was sitting on the table, right in front of the big window.  
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.  
But she did. In her native language, she told him. She told him that she missed her. That she thought that her coffee was the best around. That since her ‘date nights’ with D.Va started, her nights became brighter than her days.  
On the eighth night, she learned that a certain Korean left the medical wing. She waited, with one cup of coffee, sitting pretty where D.Va should’ve been. She was afraid that Hana left this world. She was afraid that this was her last night of sitting in the mess hall, she didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want it to end like this.  
She didn’t want to have regrets. She hated regrets. Sombra often told herself that it was better to regret doing something than regretting not doing it. She didn’t want to stand at Hana Song’s funeral, she didn’t want to have to say a few empty words, when she knew so much. When she knew Hana’s favourite books, and what she did on her worst nights. When she knew that Hana preferred the way Sombra made her coffee than the way she did. When she knew all about Hana’s past, to her childhood, to her first battle. When she knew that she put some light in the Korean’s eyes. Information was power, but she had never felt so powerless.  
The sound of the mess hall’s door opening snapped her out of it. She got up abruptly. Standing in the doorway, covered in bandages, stood D.Va. The Korean slowly got closer, walking slowly to the hacker, their eyes never leaving the other’s, not even when the Mexican hacker broke into a sprint, her arms embracing the younger woman, this felt nice, this felt right.  
Her arms around Hana’s waist, her arms around Sombra’s neck, their noses almost touching. She could feel her breath against her lips. D.Va smiled, a subtle, knowing smile. She had the information. She had the power. She kissed her, she poured all of her soul into it. Sombra kissed her back, with equal passion, letting her tongue gently tease the Korean’s lips, before entering her mouth, their tongues danced, this wasn’t just a kiss, this was a confession. This kiss said what was left unsaid during the date nights, this kiss of equally shared passion, love, and devotion, was like coffee under the gaze of a knowing moon, above breaking waves, above pain and despair.  
The kiss ended when they had to get some air, but none of them dared to pull away, they stayed like this, panting slightly, lost in each other, finding what they thought was bound to be forsaken. Sombra brought her nose close to Hana’s.  
“Don’t you even-”  
“Boop.” Sombra giggled, Hana couldn’t help but join in. She took the older woman’s hand into her own, intertwined their fingers, and went to make her a coffee. Sombra embraced the smaller woman from behind, gently kissing her.  
“Does that make us girlfriends?” Asked Hana, handing the hacker her mug of coffee.  
“If you’re okay with it, I’d be glad to be your girlfriend, hermosa.”  
They sat where D.Va’s seat used to be, Hana was more than glad to sit on her girlfriend’s lap, sipping on her own coffee.  
“This feels amazing.” Hana turned around, so that she had each leg on either side of her girlfriend, still holding her cup of coffee.  
And again, they were lost in each other, kissing, gazing into the other’s eyes, as if they couldn’t get enough of it.  
Three words were dying to be said, but they had time.


End file.
